by John G. Neihardt
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Let me live out my years in heat of blood! Let me die drunken with the dreamer’s wine! Let me not see this soul-house built of mud go toppling to the dusk — a vacant shrine. Let me go quickly, like a candle light snuffed out just at the heyday of its glow. Give me high noon — and let it then be night! Thus would I go. And grant that when I face the grisly Thing， My song may trumpet down the gray Perhaps. Let me be as a tune-swept fiddle string that feels the Master Melody — and snaps! |
让我在热血沸腾中度此一生！ 让我在梦想家的醇酒里醉沉！ 莫让我眼见着泥塑的肉身 终于以空虚的躯壳毁于泥尘！ 让我如烛火烨烨 在最耀眼时熄灭。 给我正午——随即暗夜！ 这就是我所愿 见证我面对可怖的造物 我的歌会吹散一切猜疑的阴晦 让我做一把最完美的提琴 与最伟大的琴手共舞——然后崩毁！ |